echoshadow
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Soap went still. There, crushed into the floor of their tent, was the yellow-brown body of a scorpion.
Their guide had warned them of all sorts of creatures in the desert. Most had been accompanied with the word muerto. Soap wasn’t exactly a linguist, but in this line of work there were a few words in every language you heard more than the rest. Death was one of them.
Maybe everything was fine. Maybe Ghost had crushed it before anything had happened, and he had only gone out to get a little air.
Or perhaps he had been stung and decided to wander off into the desert to die.
Soap certainly knew which one of those possibilities sounded more like Ghost.
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Soap helps Ghost treat a scorpion sting in the middle of the desert. Along the way they resolve the uncertain status of their attitudes towards each other.
Bookmarked by echoshadow
15 Jun 2026
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“Johnny?” Ghost pulled off his gloves, kneeling at the bedside. He could feel the heat on his palm before he even made contact with the clammy skin. His fingers found the pulse point, and his own heart beat faster. It was weak. It was too damn weak. “Fuck!”
Within seconds he had scooped Soap into his arms and started practically running down the barracks halls. People jumped out of the way, faces shocked at the unusual sight. Murmurs drowned in the sound of blood rushing in his ears.
“Hang in there, Johnny. Stay with me now.”
Soap gets poisoned. Ghost takes it as well as you'd expect.
Bookmarked by echoshadow
14 Jun 2026
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One laugh stood out amongst the small crowd, and Ghost felt his heart still – there was no bloody way. He pushed through the crowd more forcefully than he intended and stopped dead in his tracks. It took everything in him to mold his face into something that resembled disinterest.
There – sitting on a couch lounge next to Crawford, acting like he’d known the man for years – was Soap fucking Mactavish.
Fuckin’ hell.
OR
Ghost goes undercover and Soap decides to tag alongBookmarked by echoshadow
14 Jun 2026
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“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny.” Ghost was standing in the middle of the carnage, covered in blood like a fallen angel.
Thank God.
Johnny’s grip loosened on his rifle, dropping the muzzle forwards. Ghost was on him in a second, only needing to take a single stride to get to Soap and tuck an arm around Soap’s waist, tugging the weapon from his hand.
Soap could feel his heart beat in his left arm- hanging limply at his side, blood dripping off his fingers. “Nah, still on earth last I checked.”
He had hoped Ghost would at least chuckle, but the man did not seem to find anything funny about this for some reason. -
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Summary
“Yield.”
He bares his teeth, presses back against the firm body above him and bucks, furious and not particularly sure as to why.
The arm around his throat tightens as Ghost presses further against him, nearly crushing him with his weight. He’s trying to wear him down, trying to get him to collapse, but Soap has held heavier, has pushed through worse.
The spar isn’t over until he says it is.
Bookmarked by echoshadow
11 Jun 2026